


support structures

by Shadaras



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: College AU, Fluff, Gen, Queerplatonic relationship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/pseuds/Shadaras
Summary: Rosaline Capulet is the best thing that ever happened to Benvolio Montague, and sometimes they even manage to acknowledge that.





	support structures

Benvolio woke up to his phone yelling at him.

Unfortunately, that was not an exaggeration; Rosaline had set her own alert for the rare times she called him, claiming that “You ignore your phone all the time, and I want to be able to get through to you when you aren’t in class.”

So his phone was yelling at him. Benvolio groaned and grabbed it off the desk beside him, hitting the ‘accept’ button just before Rosaline’s recording got to calling him a tower of rats held together by paperclips and elbow grease. He picked it up, ignoring how it probably wasn’t good that he knew the whole thing by heart. Said something about how often he heard it despite the theory that he’d actually pick up if Rosaline was yelling at him.

Benvolio swiped the ‘accept call’ button and said, “What did I sleep through this time?”

That actually bought him a pause. Then Rosaline said, “Dinner, probably.”

He looked over at the clock on the wall and groaned. “Last I looked at the clock it was like 4:30.”

“And now it’s almost eight and the dining halls are closed.” Benvolio could imagine her facepalming at him very easily. “Do you have food there?”

“Weeeelllllllll,” Benvolio began.

“Caffeine is not a meal.”

Benvolio shoved his chair back and went, without much hope, over to the mini-fridge he’d been gifted after his first year. “What about--”

“Booze is _also_ not a meal.”

“Then no, I don’t have any food here, and while I’m sure I can get chips and pretzels and candy from the frat, I don’t think you’d count that either,” Benvolio snapped. He closed the mini-fridge and ran his free hand through his hair. He needed a shower. And to sleep on his bed, where he wouldn’t wake up with an aching neck. “Are you offering to bring me something?”

“Have you even left your room today?”

“I have three finals tomorrow, Rosaline, you _know_ that. What do you _think_?”

In the silence as Rosaline processed that, Benvolio scratched at his beard-scruff. He should shave. That went along with the shower, unfortunately, in that once he got up the stamina to _start_ taking care of his appearance he’d probably continue. 

“Ben.”

“Yeah?” He sniffed at his armpit. Changing clothes would be good regardless. It’d help make him feel like he was halfway functional.

“You’re going to meet me in the union cafe in twenty minutes.”

Benvolio paused. “I’m going to shower first.”

“So, I’ll see you in twenty minutes.”

He made a face at the window, where it was fully dark outside and he could see snow falling through the lights. “Yes, okay, fine, I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

And then she hung up before Benvolio could think to ask her why she’d even called. He made a face and dropped his phone onto his textbook. “Shower,” he said aloud. He had definitely remembered to put his towel back in its cubby in the shared bathroom for once. He was like ninety-percent certain of that. Good enough.

The good shower was even free. “Blessings upon this day,” Benvolio muttered as he got in and let too-hot water pour over him. When the options were generally too hot or too cold, and a happy medium involved actually thinking more than ‘yes I would like heat’, scalding was definitely the better choice. This shower at least had decent water pressure. Benvolio actually felt sort of properly awake now, and shook himself out of just relaxing into the water. He was going to meet Rosaline. He did not want Mercutio to get recruited into yanking him out of the water.

So he washed himself, and forgot to shave, and put on a new set of jeans and a warm shirt. Then he grabbed a scarf, shoved a hat over his hair so he wouldn’t freeze as much, and pulled on his jacket. Boots he saved for last, lacing them up with a grumble about Rosaline’s expectation that he’d actually manage to be there in just twenty minutes; the frat was almost ten minutes away as it was, with all the snow. Showering itself took at least ten if you were going to clean yourself properly and also have anything resembling time to appreciate the heat properly.

The traditional “Oh God It’s Finals” party going on in the common area made him wince at the noise and smell of it. Just because he lived here didn’t mean he approved of how someone always had _some_ excuse for a party. At least two floors up the noise was generally muted to a dull bass thump against his floor. Benvolio ducked out before anyone could try and yank him into the celebrations, only half of which were really celebratory. At least they hadn’t gotten around to the equally traditional Burning Of The Notes yet; he actually rather enjoyed that bonfire party, and missing it would’ve been a shame.

Outside was dark and cold and Benvolio pulled his hat more closely over his ears, then shoved his hands hastily into his pockets before they could start freezing. The drifting snow would almost be pretty if it weren’t snow and dark and also finals. As it was, it was just a reminder that he was outside, and not inside, and why did he even let Rosaline talk him into doing things like this. Probably because it was better than finals, and because she did have a point, that staying in his room for over a day was not a good plan. Benvolio sighed, and trudged towards the tower of the student union building.

Inside was quiet and bright and also warmer. Normally around this time, students would be gathering. However, normal students actually got quieter during finals. Benvolio sighed and turned down the hall towards the cafe. The clock on the wall said he was late. As usual. He saw Rosaline waiting for him at a table, a cup of probably-tea in front of her. She wasn’t paying attention to him, though; she had her phone out and was tapping on it, playing one of her time-wasting games that Benvolio suspected she mostly played so that she could ignore people without them getting as angry at her.

Her coat and scarf and hat all matched, pale blue with darker accents, and she had dark blue gloves neatly placed on the table beside her. Because she was smart, and planned ahead, and remembered that gloves were a good idea. Benvolio sighed at himself, and slouched into the chair across from her.

“Go get something to eat first,” Rosaline said. She didn’t even look up from her game.

Benvolio flipped her off, and she responded in kind. But he did get up, letting the chair screech obnoxiously on the floor for half a second before it hurt his ears, and went and stood in line for a slice of mediocre lukewarm pizza. As he stood there, his stomach growled at him, and he looked at the size of the slices, and got two. And a large coffee. When he returned, stuffing pizza into his mouth, Rosaline had put her phone away, and was looking at him with his typical mix of exasperation and understanding fondness.

“Why were you even calling me?” Benvolio asked. It came out more like “‘y’re oo v’n ‘allin’ me?”, which was almost comprehensible probably.

“Commiseration. Needing a break. Assuming that you were caught in a funk because you hadn’t responded to my texts.” Rosaline waggled her phone at his face.

Benvolio sat down and set down his food. He hadn’t even thought to check his phone. “You were right, I guess.”

“Asleep is not the same thing as in a funk.”

“It’s basically the same thing.”

“I’m going to eat my pizza now.”

Rosaline grimaced as he stuffed his mouth as full of pizza as he could. “You could eat it like a normal person.”

Benvolio swallowed his mouthful, and said, “This is more efficient.”

“It’s also gross.”

“Or you could complain about Professor Lawrence while I’m eating.” He took a gulp of his coffee and then swore as it burnt his tongue and throat.

Rosaline shook her head. “You’re a mess.”

“I know, I know.” Benvolio grinned at her. “What did I ever do before I met you?”

“Some days,” Rosaline said, “I really do wonder.”

Benvolio nodded peaceably, and settled down to listen as Rosaline started in on her extensive, and definitely well-practiced, series of complaints. He’d heard a good half of them before, earlier in the semester, and another quarter of them over the last two weeks as she’d worked on this research paper. But it was nice, and it meant hearing about someone else’s problems instead of the sheer amount of information he was supposed to have memorized before his tests tomorrow.

Her insistence that he come and get food didn’t hurt, either.

Rosaline eventually trailed off and frowned at him. “What are you even thinking about, with that expression?”

“What expression?” Benvolio said automatically. A second later, he said, sheepishly, “I’m glad we got stuck together.”

“You’re the one who got lucky there.” Rosaline drank the last of her tea. “I’m coming back with you. At least it’ll be a different set of walls, and I won’t need to wake you up to complain at you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Benvolio said, grinning. He honestly hadn’t expected anything else. He downed his coffee and stood up to toss the cups and his plate in the trash. “They’re partying downstairs.”

Rosaline put on her gloves, not looking at him, and picked up her book-stuffed computer bag. “I don’t care.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Benvolio offered her his arm. When she took it, she leaned against him for a moment, as much a display of affection as she ever gave. He smiled, and led the way back through the snow -- not as oppressive now, with food in his belly and his best friend at his side -- to face once more, but this time not alone, the horrors of finals.


End file.
